Maggie, Flamboyant and Mid-Size
by MaddieMozart
Summary: Everyone knows the story of Sarah, plain and tall. But what of Sarah's mail-order-bride friend Maggie? This is Maggie's story, of how she came to live with Matthew Nordstrom and his two daughters long before Sarah came to Kansas. (Kind-Of-Prequel to Sarah, Plain and Tall)
1. Maggie

_**Maggie**_

* * *

"Miss Walter, I'm sure that what you're saying is true, and it's nothing personal, believe me." The accountant shuffled some papers around on her desk, avoiding eye contact. "But Mason & Mason cannot continue to support you in your mothers home, while they do not receive payment. You must understand."

Maggie rose from the overly-plush chair, smoothing her skirt. "I do understand, Ms. Handerson," she answered, her voice much more calm than she thought it would be. "I'll pack my things and be on my way within the month." Ms. Handerson looked up nervously, eyes wide.

"Oh, no, dear," she said. "You misunderstood the time frame. You must be out by the end of the week."

"What?" Maggie asked, incredulous. "The end of... of... the week? I couldn't possibly - I mean, there's no..."

"I'm sorry, Miss Walter," Ms. Handerson said sincerely. "But it's not my rule. You have until May 25th."

* * *

"Paper, Miss Walter." Maggie whipped her head up from the hatbox of old bills, her hair coming loose from the messy bun and leaving tendrils to frame her flushed face. Just outside the screen door stood little Michael, the paper boy for Absten Street. Maggie rose from where she knelt on the hardwood floor, opening the door.

"Thank you, Michael," she said, smiling sweetly at the lad as he handed her the Sunday paper. He was obviously warm from the heat of the day, and she motioned behind her. "There are sandwiches and lemonade on the back porch for you."

Michael was a frequent lunch guest of Maggie's - Maggie was the last house on the boy's paper route, and Maggie enjoyed the company. Michael grinned.

"Thank you, Miss Walter," he said as he bounded off in the direction of the food. Maggie laughed to herself. How she would miss him when she left.

The telephone in the kitchen rang, breaking Maggie out of her brief melancholy. She went to answer it.

"Hello, Walter resi - "

"Maggie! Oh, Mag, have you seen the advertisement section? You just have to look!" Maggie smiled at the busy, enthusiastic voice of her friend, Rebecca Falwell.

"No, Becky, I haven't even opened the paper," Maggie answered. "But what's so important?" Becky giggled.

"Oh, honey, I don't want to tell! Just you look for yourself, and you'll know, you'll just know when you find it!" Maggie opened the paper to the advertisement column, skimming to find something that would interest Becky so. It didn't take long to find it. Maggie flushed in spite of herself as she read.

_Tall, handsome farmer. Very smart. Has two children. Lives in Kansas. Seeks a wife. Write Matthew H. Nordstrom, Mill Creek, Kansas._

"Did you find it yet, Mag? Did you?" Becky's voice drew Maggie's attention from the advertisement.

"I..." Maggie hesitated. "I don't know what you're talking about, Becky. There's simply nothing here that would interest me. Won't you tell me what it is, dear?" Becky gave an exaggerated, romantic sigh.

"Oh, Maggie, the advertisement about that Matthew Nordstrom fellow!"

"Rebecca Tulisa Marie Falwell, I am most emphatically _not_ going to be a mail order bride!" Maggie protested.

"Well, why ever not?" Becky whined. "I mean, you've got to leave by Saturday, and you've got nowhere else, and maybe it would be nice to see some other part of the country for a change!" Maggie flushed again, but this time it was from frustration.

"I don't even know the man, Becky!" Maggie said.

"You know he's tall, handsome, smart - "

"If he's all that, then he shouldn't need to advertise for a wife!"Becky seemed to stop short at that.

"Oh, well... I suppose..." she said, and Maggie could almost hear the disillusionment in her voice.

"See?" Maggie asked, more gentle. She hadn't meant to hurt Becky, but she could (rather annoyingly, in Maggie's opinion) play matchmaker with a passion.

"Yes, you're quite right, Maggie," Becky said, seemingly unhurt. "Talk to you soon, honey!" The line went flat, like it always did - Becky always hung up first and abruptly.


	2. Matthew

_**Matthew**_

* * *

"Violet, I haven't asked you to do anything too ridiculous. Pick up the chicken and bring it here, please." Matthew nodded to the fine stock of chickens and roosters in the pen, prompting his daughter towards it. She wrinkled her nose, reaching her hands in to grab one. She was successful, and she must have taken it to heart.

"Look, daddy, I got it! I got - Eeek!" Violet stumbled backwards and fell as the chicken - in a burst of rebellion - took wing and landed on the grass by Matthew. He coughed to hide the laughter he couldn't contain, struggling to stifle a grin.

"I'm sorry, Violet," Matthew said, reaching out a hand to help his daughter up off the ground. "I didn't know that Miz Mabel would have such a temper." Violet threw a cold glance towards the proudly strutting bird, then looked up to her father.

"I musta looked somethin' funny, huh daddy?" she giggled. Matthew smiled as he rumpled her hair. He thanked the Lord that his offspring has a sense of humor.

"Just a mite, little girl," he said affectionately.

"Do you suppose I should get Miz Mabel back in, daddy?" Violet asked. Matthew frowned slightly, shaking his head.

"No, I don't suppose you have to, Violet," he answered. "I'll get her in while you and Rose get washed up for dinner. I've got some good news to tell you two." Violet's face lit up.

"Ok, daddy, me 'n Rose'll get ready real quick!" She hurried up to the house, already shouting for her sister to get washed up.

Matthew pulled a handkerchief from the back pocket of his denims and pushed his hat back on his head, wiping his brow.

"Take me to the hoosegow, but it's hot," Matthew said to himself. He glanced up at the glaring sun in the cloudless sky, judging that he'd better get in for some dinner before the girls got too excited about the question he had yet to pose. He picked Miz Mabel up and put her in the pen, walking up to the house, praying that he had made the right decision in even considering the question.

* * *

"Rosie? Violet?"

"Yes, daddy?" the girls answered in unison. Matthew smiled.

"Wasn't there something I was supposed to tell you after dinner?" he asked, enjoying the suspense of the rhetorical question. The girls' faces lit up and they looked to each other for a brief moment before looking back to their father.

"Yes, daddy!" they answered. "Please tell us, daddy!"

"You really want to know?" Matthew asked, wanting to prolong the eagerness of his children. Patience was a virtue, after all.

"Yes, daddy, we want to know!" Rose said, her tone bordering on impatience, but having too much excitement in it to be disrespectful. Matthew grinned and leaned back in his chair.

"Alright then," he said, pulling a photograph from his pocket. "Here you are." He put the faded, sepia photograph on the table, and both girls looked at it eagerly, curiosity eating them up. They were quiet for a moment as they examined the photograph.

"Oh, daddy, she's so _pretty_," Rose enthused in a whisper.

"Who _is_ she, daddy?" Violet asked, her voice equally hushed with awe. Matthew leaned forward so that he was closer to his children.

"That," he said, "is your new mother."


End file.
